The Handkerchief
by Claudi Skies
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds a pink lacy handkerchief. Is this the beginning of a romance? Post-war, one-shot, Dramione!


**I apologize to those of you who are waiting for me to update "Crouching Lioness, Hidden Dragon." I've been trying to adjust to college life these past few weeks, so that's my excuse. Haha. I hope to update soon! I don't plan on abandoning anything anytime soon. :) But meanwhile, I have this one-shot that just came to mind the other day, and since I had some time today, I wrote something quickly. So ta-da! I hope this suffices for now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. College kids are poor.**

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Draco Malfoy was having a bad day. He fired two of his best employees this morning because they had been getting on his nerves with their constant spats—it's not like they just started bickering today. No, they'd been at it ever since they first entered his company a year ago, and Draco had found them amusing to watch. But hearing their usually entertaining screaming match at 8 a.m. this particular morning had put him in a foul mood, and thus, he fired them. Now he regretted doing so; he had to find people to replace them as soon as possible because the company depended on it and asking them to come back was out of the question. It was the curse of the bloody Malfoy pride.

Then, to make the morning even worse, it had seemed that his secretary was no longer interested in him, as she didn't bat her eyelashes at him the way she usually did when he entered his office. He didn't fancy her at all (because girls that threw themselves at him were a huge turn off), but seeing the signs that it was now mutual wounded his ego a tiny bit. He was the sexiest man in all of wizarding Britain—did she suddenly go blind or something?

He had returned home at noon just because he could and because the morning's events were the sources of a major migraine. Okay, the headache actually wasn't that bad, but he needed to give himself an excuse to not stay and boss his underlings around.

In any case, going home had turned out to be a bad idea. He'd found his girlfriend of one month sitting on his couch, a look of contempt on her pretty pureblood face. Astoria Greengrass had then proceeded to accuse him of not spending enough time with her, and he, being already thoroughly irritated by work, had promptly ended their relationship. Really though, if she expected him to spend his every waking hour with her, then he was better off without her. What a clingy bitch.

But now, he was girlfriend-less, which meant there was no one to satisfy his…needs. And there was no way he was lowering himself to do the whole get-drunk-and-bed-the-first-girl-who-approaches-you fiasco. Please, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys had high standards.

After kicking the bawling drama queen out of his flat, he had received an owl from his mother asking him to come over for dinner and pick up the books she had on hold at Flourish and Blotts. He loved his mother, but honestly, couldn't she go to Diagon Alley herself? Apparating doesn't exactly take that much effort! Of course, on the only day that he wishes to be alone, everyone does something to bother him.

So here he was now, muttering profanities and other unspeakable things under his breath. Draco tossed the parchment aside and grabbed the coat that he had taken off just a few minutes ago before apparating on the spot.

Walking at a brisk pace and giving off a vibe that said you-can-stare-but-don't-come-close, the aggravated blond adjusted the gray cashmere scarf around his neck and cursed at the cold December air and the entire world. It was a rather comical sight; the girls who would swoon whenever he passed by looked put off, exchanging glances and wondering just what had made him so moody and unapproachable.

Just as he was about to step into Flourish and Blotts, he spied two annoyingly familiar faces by the entrance to Madam Malkin's. Potty and Weaselbee. Just seeing their faces made his day infinitely worse. Shaking his head, Draco strode into the book shop.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" The manager greeted him from behind the counter, smiling amiably.

"It's Draco." He corrected automatically, giving the man a curt nod.

"Of course. What brings you here? It's usually your mother who stops by." The manager ruffled through some papers.

"She wants me to pick up her books this time." He cast a glance around the shop, noticing with some satisfaction that people, particularly girls, were peering at him over their books.

"Ah, right away!" The manager began to sift through the pile behind him.

Tapping his foot impatiently, Draco looked down at the front of his coat and picked off some invisible lint. His gaze shifted to the piece of pink cloth lying forlornly on the ground by his left foot. It appeared to be a lost handkerchief, and judging by its color and the fact that there was lace embroidering, it belonged to a girl. Picking it up, he turned it in his hands. The initials "HJG" were intricately sewed on with magenta thread. The handiwork was neat but unprofessional, so it must have been handmade and not magically done. Then could it belong to a muggle-born witch? But it was possible that it belonged to a halfblood or pureblood witch…if she preferred to hand make stuff or something. The possibilities were endless.

He frowned, trying to match a face to the initials. _HJG?_

"Here they are!" The manager interrupted his thoughts, handing him the books and grinning broadly. "Can I do anything else for you, Draco?"

"No, that's it. Thank you." Draco managed a half-smile and tucked the books underneath his arm. Turning away from the manager, he glanced at the handkerchief in his hand again. What was he going to do with it? Would it be worth asking around for its owner?

Only if the owner was hot and a potential girlfriend candidate.

His smoky gray eyes zeroed in on the letters. _DLM & HJG. Pretty hot._

And if things went extremely well between them…_HJM. Yup, definitely sexy. _

There was a nice ring to it. Now that he had decided to seek out this mysterious handkerchief owner who he really hoped was hot, he felt a bit better. Perhaps things were starting to look up!

He had about an hour before he had to go to the Manor. Determined, Draco looked around the book shop for his first target. If the handkerchief was dropped here, then its owner must have been or is still here.

He made eye contact with a cute brunette who was obviously checking him out. Putting on his most charming smile, he sauntered over to her and presented the handkerchief in excessive flourish. "Madam, is this yours?"

The girl looked confused for a few seconds before she beamed. "Oh, thank you so much for finding my cloth! I've been looking everywhere for it!" She batted her eyelashes at him and reached out to put her hand on top of his.

"It's not yours." Draco snatched his hand away like he'd been stung. Terrible liars and daft girls were also turn offs. The girl recoiled in disappointment.

He walked away, calling behind his shoulder, "And for future references, it's a handkerchief, you stupid bint."

Well, that was a waste of time. But he was still hopeful. Kind of. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. Perhaps the next girl could correctly identify what she had lost.

"Excuse me." A smooth melodic voice came from behind him.

He turned and found himself staring at a pretty blonde with black-framed glasses sitting atop the bridge of her nose. Looking her up and down, he nodded in approval. She would do if she was the one.

Blushing under his scrutiny, the blonde gestured at the handkerchief he was holding. "Where did you get that?"

"Why?" Draco smirked. "Is it yours?"

"No." She frowned at him and pushed her glasses up. "I'm wondering if I should report you for theft or…" She tilted her head to one side, giving him a pointed look. "Perhaps sexual harassment?"

He was dumbfounded. "W-what makes you think that I sexually harassed someone?" He sputtered unattractively. Draco was glad that Flourish and Blotts was rather noisy for a Friday afternoon.

"Ah, you sound nervous. So you really did sexually harass someone?" The girl tilted her head to the other side.

"Of course not! You're making an unjustified assumption! I didn't feel a girl up to get her bloody handkerchief. I could care less about a handkerchief! Don't you know who I am?" Draco retorted in frustration. Dealing with false accusations was so not worth it. This madness was going to stop. Now.

"Then why do you have that?" She demanded.

"Because I found it." Draco shook his head. "I'm done talking to you."

"Wait, we're not finished!" She shouted after him.

"Yes, we are!" He shot back.

This was getting out of hand—how was finding the owner of a stupid pink handkerchief so bloody difficult? He was about to just give up and leave when someone in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

Eying a tall dark-haired woman who had his back facing him, Draco made his way towards her. She had a mysterious aura around her—or so he thought. He put a hand on her shoulder and she whirled around, her hand flying to her heart.

He had screwed up. This had to be by far his worst choice.

"Oh my, you scared me, boy!" The middle-aged woman scolded.

He almost slapped himself. But in his defense, she was in shape and thus her back profile could pass for that of a twenty year old's. "I'm sorry, Madam. It won't happen again."

"It'd better not!" She admonished and returned to her novel. "Kids these days…" she mumbled to herself.

This was turning out to be a futile mission. He was feeling more and more disappointed by the second. He must have been really bad at picking out girls, as each one was more ridiculous than the previous. One girl had been smart enough to say that it was her handkerchief and even made up a story behind its creation, but she blew it when he'd asked her what her name was. Abruptly looking nervous, she had fibbed, "H…Helen…Jon, no Jane…Green?"

He had snorted at that. Helen Jon/Jane Green. It had been a good attempt. Although, it was true that there weren't many common feminine names that started with the letter "H"; parents had to get creative if they didn't want to name their baby girl Helen, Harriet, or something generic like that.

Merlin, unless…

A feeling of dread overtook him. Unless the handkerchief didn't belong to a girl?

He shuddered and shook his head vigorously.

"Oh, Miss Granger! Back already?" The manager's bright cheery voice exclaimed over the rowdiness.

Draco whirled around to see the muggleborn war heroine in the doorway of the book shop. She looked flushed and was panting as if she had just finished Quidditch practice. But she didn't even play Quidditch. Ah, so that's why he'd seen Potter and Weasley in Diagon Alley. Of course they would come here together. Where was the idiotic duo now? He was digressing.

She flashed the manager a brief and troubled smile before shuffling about, her eyes downcast. What in Merlin's name was she doing with her eyes lowered like that? He was seeing her for the first time since the war that had ended almost two years ago. Had she somehow lost all of her self-confidence during that time period? How odd.

He stood rooted to his spot, watching her meander about with a strange fascination. And suddenly, she was heading straight towards him. Instinct told him to move out of the way, but his body refused to budge. There was no surprise when she bumped into his chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She apologized in a rush, not even pausing to spare a glance before moving past him.

Had he really just been ignored by Hermione Granger? Wait. H…G…? It couldn't be.

"Granger."

His suave voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Malfoy?" She slowly turned around and looked at him inquisitively, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

Now that they were face to face, he could see that she had physically matured for the better. Her hair didn't look so much like a nest anymore; now, he could actually tell they were curls. And he found that he liked them. He couldn't really tell what her body looked like under all those layers, but something told him it would be a pleasing sight. Call it male intuition or whatever.

He was glad that other than her hair and body, she hadn't changed much. Her eyes were as expressive as always, and her lips still looked inviting. He probably wouldn't label her as hot, but she was definitely good to look at. He'd noticed these things back in their school days, but she had been a forbidden fruit then.

Now? It was a new age. He licked his lips in anticipation.

"Looking for this?"

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**I hope that was okay. Tell me what you think! ~Claudi Skies**


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